Lost Boy
by hmmga
Summary: Sergeant Benton is forced to return to his childhood home as UNIT investigates a set of psychic anomalies. But confronting the old memories is never easy, and a number of shadows are waiting to haunt him. But when one ghost becomes something more, will he be able to focus on the life he has now, or will he fall like the boy whose blood still stains the stones…
1. Chapter 1

**Inspired by 'Wartime', and takes place after 'The Time Monster'. I do not own Doctor Who.**

**Lost Boy**

**Chapter 1**

_The Brigadier stopped in his tracks, hovering behind a tree as Sergeant Benton turned to face a small grave._

"_Hello there, Chris," he said softly. "It's been a long time."_

_Alastair turned back quickly, not wanting to intrude on what was obviously a very private moment for the young man. He began the walk back to the field where they had positioned their mobile HQ, considering what he had seen. It was only just dawning on the Brigadier that Sergeant Benton was a bit of a mysterious character. Nobody really knew much about him. His UNIT personnel file gave the basic information, but was conspicuously lacking in detail. _

_He had a sister, that much was known only because she was listed as his next of kin. He grew up less than a mile away from where they were standing… apart from that, he knew nothing. If Alastair hadn't taken the time to look it up, he would not even know that he was called John._

Sergeant Benton sighed in annoyance as he filled in another UNIT form. It was just his luck to land admin duty when a stack of paperwork had just arrived. Yet again he wished he was out on the field, but instead he was stuck there until five o'clock.

"Having fun?"

He looked up to glower at Captain Yates. Mike was also wearing the red cord of the administration department, but he wasn't tied to a desk.

"Hello there sir," he said, a small amount of bitterness seeping into his words. Mike frowned.

"There's no need to be like that, I came to relieve you. The Doctor has 'requested' some coffee. I offered to make it, obviously, but um... the Brig told me to send you over. I'm to finish your paperwork."

Benton laughed at the annoyance on the captain's face. Mike hated paperwork.

"Brigadier been up all night then?" he asked, grinning.

"It would seem so," said Mike.

"He only specifically requests my coffee when he's desperate. Either that or The Doc's getting on his nerves again."

Mike chuckled and waved Benton away, taking his seat and picking up his pen.

"Go on, go and enjoy yourself making that coffee, just... bring me a cup too, will you?"

"Yes sir."

Benton left the room, grinning broadly. 'Tea duty' was a job not many UNIT men relished, but Benton always found it enjoyable. He found making coffee to be very therapeutic, and his mother had taught him long ago how to make the perfect cup.

A few minutes later he knocked on the door of the lab, the final four coffee cups balanced on a tray.

"Come in," called the Doctor and he pushed the door open to find Jo, the Doc, and the Brigadier huddled around a strange device.

"Ah, Benton," said the Brigadier, taking one of the cups. "Thank you very much."

Benton nodded, and gave a cup to the Doctor and Jo, before taking the last one for himself.

"That's a funny looking thing, Doc," he said, nodding his head towards the wiry device. The Doctor threw him a scathing look.

"That, Sergeant Benton," he said icily. "Is a Psychic Resonator. There have been a few strange reports from the north of the country recently..."

"Doctor," said the Brigadier. "I'm telling you again, man, it's all nonsense! Those locals were probably drunk, or deluded, or even just very highly superstitious."

"Ah," said the Doctor. "But my equipment says otherwise. You should never disregard a psychic pulse, Brigadier. Something's going on out there. I can feel it from here, it's like someone's messing around with time streams."

"Time streams?" asked Benton in alarm. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Sometimes," said the Doctor, prodding at his device. "But it doesn't seem to be particularly turbulent at the moment. For now it's probably just psychic projections, which would fit the reports of ghosts."

"Now see hear, Doctor," interrupted the Brigadier. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"Not ghosts in the way that you're thinking," said the Doctor. "Places and structures can hold psychic memories, which can occasionally manifest as apparitions. If the energy is enough, however…"

But he was interrupted once again by the Brigadier, who had already lost track of the Doctor's explanation. Benton rolled his eyes and picked up his coffee, as the bickering became more heated. As he left the lab, Jo slipped out after him and he smiled at her.

"How are you, Miss Grant," he asked.

"I'm well thanks," she replied amicably. "But the Doctor and Brigadier have been arguing all day, and it gets... well..."

"I understand, Miss," said Benton. "It's a bit much."

"Yes," she said. "But the Doctor's worried, you know. Really worried. He's trying to persuade the Brigadier that UNIT needs to go to Yorkshire to investigate."

"That would be nice," said Benton. "Yorkshire's lovely. Where abouts?"

"A small town called Little Stockbridge."

Benton choked on his coffee.

"You've heard of it?" asked Jo.

"I'll say," gasped Benton. "I grew up there, Miss."

"Really?"

"Aye. Not sure I'll be willing to go back, mind."

"Why ever not? Don't you have family up there?"

"Not anymore, Miss. You... you won't tell anyone, will you?"

She nodded in understanding.

"Alright, Sergeant," she said. "I won't say a word."

"Thank you. Well, this is me. I left Captain Yates doing the paperwork."

"Alright then. I'll see you later."

"Goodbye, Miss."

He opened the office door, to find Mike still at the desk.

"Ah, Benton," grinned Mike. "Thank God you're back. My hand was hurting."

Benton laughed. Mike got up, and Benton sat back down.

"You've got a good lot done though, sir. Thanks."

"Don't mention it, but I had a little bit of an issue with..."

He door was thrown open abruptly, causing Mike to leap back as the Brigadier stormed into the office.

"Alright," he snapped. "The Doctor is insisting we go to Yorkshire, of all places, to sort out something strange that he can't explain because I 'won't possibly understand'. We leave for Little Stockbridge in an hour. Benton, the records say you're from thereabouts, be ready to get going. Captain Yates, you will also be accompanying us. Any questions? No, good. Carry on."

The door slammed shut, leaving the two UNIT men staring after him in shock.

"Well," said Mike. "He's in a bad mood."

Benton nodded, his heart sinking as he laid down his pen. Looked like he was going home after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**This will be the last update for two weeks.**

**Chapter 2**

"_I own the land, sir," said Benton uncomfortably, not looking the Brigadier in the eye. "Consider it at your disposal."_

_He turned on his heel and strode away to where Jo was fussing about unloading the supplies. Alastair stared after him in shock; taking a second look at the field they were located. The estate must have gone on for miles, from the big house on the hill, to the little cottage where the tenants lived, all the way down in the valley. Acres of farmland… he had no idea._

_The mobile HQ was nearly fully operational, and he snapped himself out of his reverie to settle his belongings into his office. _

The mirror was cracked and dirty. It frightened him, and he was scared what he would see if he looked into it, but he had no choice. His feet took him closer and closer, to stare into the disfigured glass…

He saw himself, pale and scared looking. But as he allowed himself to relax a little, his reflection sneered at him. He jumped backwards… it was him… not him…

He edged forwards to look in the mirror again. His own face looked back, and yet it wasn't. It was his father who had the brown hair, his father who had the icy blue eyes, his father who wore the beret of a soldier… but his own beret had the UNIT logo on it, and… and…

The UNIT mark was missing, the stripes on his arm all wrong. He was Corporal Benton, like his father… he _was_ his father…

"Benton?"

And as he watched, his father's face, his own face, curled into a sneer, and pointed an accusing finger at him, and his face morphed until he was younger, and now a little boy's face was staring at him angrily as blood dripped down his forehead…

"Benton, are you alright?"

He yelled and stumbled backwards. Not him, not now, after all these years…

"_Benton! Wake up!_"

He woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and narrowly missed banging heads with Captain Yates. He sat still for a few moments, panting and trembling. Mike was looking at him in concern.

"Are you alright, Benton? You were shaking in your sleep."

"Yes," said Benton breathlessly. "I'm alright. Thank you, sir."

Mike nodded and returned to his own bunk, still watching Benton with a worried expression.

"Bad dreams?" he asked. Benton nodded, and Mike sighed. "Not surprising is it, some of the things we see."

"No sir," muttered Benton. All the other soldiers in the room were still fast asleep, and he had a quick look at his watch. It was almost six in the morning. He got out of bed, and pulled his jacket on over his pyjamas.

They were in unfamiliar barracks, but it wasn't hard to locate the payphone. He fumbled in his pocket for the change he always carried, and pushed some coins into the slot before dialling the number.

It rang twice, before a sleepy voice answered it.

"Hello?"

"Lucy?" said Benton cautiously.

"John," she sighed groggily. "I should have known. Who else would be up at this ridiculous hour."

"I'm sorry for waking you up, Lu," he said apologetically. "I just… needed to hear your voice."

"It's alright, my alarm's about to go off anyway."

There's a crackle as she shifts herself in bed, and the low hum of another voice in the background.

"Who else is there?" he asks suspiciously.

"No-one," she says smoothly, but he knows she is lying. "I turned on the radio."

"You fibber," said Benton, half angry, half exasperated. "Who is it you've brought home this time?"

"What do you mean 'this time'?" she asked, annoyed. "It's only Jamie."

"I'll kill 'im," grumbled Benton. "I swear, I will. If he's been messing you around again..."

"John…"

"I'll never forget that time when you came home…"

"John…"

"I swear, I'll shove 'is…"

"_Johnny Benton_, shut yer trap!"

He falls silent. He hears his sister take a deep breath, and begin to speak in a calmer tone.

"Alright, John. What's upset you?"

"What? I'm not…"

"Yes you are, you're in a right state. Now tell me about it. If it's something to do with that 'Doctor' again…"

"No, nothing like that. Well, sort of."

"Tell me."

He took a breath to steady himself.

"We've stopped overnight at some Barracks in Manchester. We'll arrive in Little Stockbridge by noon."

There was a moment's silence.

"What are you going _there _for?"

"I'm a soldier," he reminded her. "UNIT are investigating something there, and I can't refuse to go."

"But surely if you spoke to the Brigadier or something…"

"I don't want to make a fuss," he said. "I don't want any kind of special treatment. I just have to get on with it."

"I'm so sorry, John. I know you hate going back there."

"I'll be alright."

"Yes, you will. I'm working all day today, but I should be in this evening if you want to talk."

"Thank you, Lucy."

"Don't mention it John. Just… take care, won't you?"

"Of course, Lu."

"Speak to you later, John."

"Bye."

He hung up, and wandered back down the corridor. He was silly, really, calling his little sister after a nightmare, but just hearing her voice always made him feel better. She was all he had left, really, and since their mother died, they had stuck together like glue. He was very protective of her, perhaps overly so. Several potential suitors had been scared off with one glance at his uniform and a crack of his knuckles. The fact he owned a gun probably didn't help either. Sometimes it made Lucy annoyed, but she generally agreed with his judgement. The lad she was seeing now, James, was actually alright, if a little insensitive.

He just disliked the boy on principle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it's been so long, but I'm all settled in my student accommodation now. Btw, both my parents were from Yorkshire, but I grew up in the south. I researched some dales dialect on the internet, but if I got it wrong you'll just have to bear with me.**

**Chapter 3**

_The Brigadier felt truly useless, why had he ever volunteered to help? The pretty young Lanton girl had already successfully milked almost the whole herd in the time it had taken him to squeeze a small amount of milk from just one cow. She looked over at him and smiled sympathetically._

_"Ah, it's alreight, Mr Brigadier," she said. I'll do it missen, why don't you go and 'elp Jonny wiv t'calves?"_

_The Brigadier got up in relief, leaving the milking shed as quickly as possible. He crossed the small courtyard, to the shed that he saw Benton disappear into._

_"They's good 'uns this year, Sophie," said Benton, his back to the Brigadier. "I'll 'appen we've 'ave a few too many bulls, but…"_

_"Benton."_

_Benton jumped, and whirled around._

_"Sorry sir," he said. "I thought you were Miss Lanton."_

_"It's quite alright, Benton. Actually, she sent me to see if you needed a hand."_

_"Ah, you didn't have much luck with the milking then?"_

_The Brig glared at him._

_"So, Benton, what exactly are you doing?"_

_Benton held out his hand. He was clutching what appeared to be a plastic baby bottle. As Alastair watched, leant down and firmly inserted the teat into the calf's mouth._

_"Well, sir, we've got a few calves who've been left without mothers, and they have to be raised by hand."_

_"I see."_

_"Here, sir."_

_Benton beckoned the Brigadier over, and transferred the grip on the bottle._

_"Just keep it steady there, sir. That's the last one."_

_Benton climbed into the next pen, and began examining the four calves in there._

_"I must say," said the Brigadier. "This is much easier than trying to get the damn milk into the bucket. I could get used to this farming lark."_

_Benton smiled slightly as the bottle was emptied._

_"Alright then, sir," he said. "Now that you're the expert in farming, can you tell me which two of these four calves are the strongest?"_

_Alastair studied them carefully. "Those two."_

_"Correct."_

_Benton took the other two calves and dragged them over to a separate pen far away from the others._

_"We can just leave them in here for now. Mr Lanton will take care of them later."_

_"When you say take care..."_

_"They're bulls," shrugged Benton in way of explanation. "We can only take so many bulls per year. They're surplus to requirements."_

_"You mean they're going to be killed?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"But that's barbaric!"_

_"Come again, sir?"_

_"Can't you just... sell them or something?"_

_"Nobody would want them. They don't produce milk, and they're the wrong type of cows to turn into beef. They'll be slaughtered, and then carved up to be fed to the dogs."_

_"But... it's..."_

_"It's life, Brigadier," said Benton, almost coldly. "It's the way the world works."_

_The Brigadier nodded and left, reeling. In twenty years if soldiering, nothing had shocked him like this. He supposed that he had never really thought about how Britain's food supply worked. He was a city boy himself, and hadn't even set eyes on such thing as a cow until he was in his late teens. His family had taken trips into the countryside, but he didn't remember farmyard animals featuring much in them._

_As he walked back to the temporary barracks, he made a mental note never to get on Mr Lantons bad side._

XXX

"I know where we can set up a mobile HQ, sir."

The Brigadier looked up as Benton spoke, irritation written across his face.

"You do, do you?" he said. "Well I'd rather go into the village first, make our presence known to some of the locals in the police station."

"Yes sir, very good, sir."

"Alright. Are we close?"

"Just a few miles now sir."

A little while later they trundled into the little village, and parked their jeeps by the green.

"That's the station over there."

The Brigadier nodded, and started out towards the little building. The men followed behind, talking amongst themselves. When they walked in, silence fell, and the locals turned to stare at them. The Brigadier made to approach the desk sergeant.

"Good morning…"

But the policeman ignored him, staring past him.

"Hey, lads!" he cried. "Lookee who it is! It's little Johnny Benton!"

There was a scrambling noise, and a two more policemen hurried into the room. Benton blushed, stepping forwards.

"Hello Mr Crabbitch," he said. "Are you well?"

"Aye, mustn't grumble," said the older man. "But wha abaaht you! Little Johnny Benton, all grown up. You're a spittin' image of yer da tha knaas."

"I know," sighed Benton.

"But you always were," continued Mr Crabbitch. "You and t'other childer. How is t'lass? Got 'erself a fella yet?"

The Brigadier cleared his throat.

"Ahem, Sergeant Benton, if you wouldn't mind, you can have a cosy catch up later."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

"Now, Mr Crabbitch," said the Brigadier. "We are here from UNIT. We received some reports of strange happenings in the area..."

"Oh aye? You'll be wantin' the Lantons. They've been mighty flayed, reckon there's a friggin' on the dale."

"The tenants?" asked Benton sharply. "But surely they would-"

"Sergeant," interrupted the Brigadier, indicating for a quiet word. Benton followed him to one side.

"Alright Benton, what did he say?"

Benton stared at the Brigadier, stunned. Then before he could stop himself, he burst out laughing. The policeman was chuckling as well.

"Oh Mr Crabbitch," laughed Benton. "I see you're still a rum'n."

The brigadier was looking decidedly unimpressed, so Benton quickly explained.

"He said that we want to go and see the Lanton family. They've been scared recently, and seem to think there's a curse on the valley."

XXX

A little while later, they had stopped the jeeps in a deserted field. The Brigadier looked distinctly unimpressed.

"This is your 'ideal location'?" he said scathingly.

"Yes sir," said Benton. The village is less than a mile that way, the Lantons live half a mile that way, and we can use that big house on the hill as a temporary barracks. I would take us a bit closer, but the other fields are being used for the sheep at the minute..."

"Why are you so sure we can use the house, Benton? It's not derelict is it?"

"Good Lord, no sir. It just hasn't been lived it for... It must be nearly ten years now. It might be a bit dusty..."

"But shouldn't we ask the owner?"

"No need."

"Benton, if you don't explain yourself..."

"I own the land sir," he said abruptly. "Consider it at your disposal."

He did an about turn and strode away quickly, leaving a stunned Brigadier in his wake.


End file.
